New chapter! Thanks for all the support!
x
Nagga's Hill overlooked Nagga's Cradle.
The captains who had bent toward Euron did not wait to see whether Drogon would return. They fled down the slopes toward the small boats drawn up on the shore, each man desperate to reach his own longship before Theon's loyalists cut him off.
Theon watched them scatter.
"Your Grace's plan was never simple," he said.
Robb looked toward the bay, where sails were already moving.
To the south, the Redwyne fleet closed in.
To the north, a mixed force of northern ships and Hightower vessels tightened the net.
The Redwynes had waited because Theon had delayed at Sunspear and Oldtown. The Hightowers had joined because Robb had gone secretly to Leyton Hightower through Malora. House Hightower had helped Tywin once. Now it had to prove where it stood.
Euron understood the shape of the trap at once.
"A fine net," he said, almost admiringly. "Too fine to be made by ironborn hands."
He ordered his mute crew to signal Ramsay's ship and break north. The Redwyne fleet was too strong. The northern-Hightower force was a mixture of crews that had not fought together for long, and therefore the weaker point.
On the shore, Bloodwind's head turned.
The ice direwolf had already shrunk from his giant battle form, but Robb's eyes found the longship flying the flayed man banner.
Ramsay's vessel was easy to recognize.
Robb raised one hand.
A long spear of ice formed above Bloodwind. It was not as clean or perfect as the weapons Robb made when his magic was full. The fight with Drogon had consumed too much. Even so, it was enough.
The spear flew.
It struck Ramsay's longship low on the right side, punching through planks and ribs before shattering. Water poured in. Men screamed and scrambled with buckets. The ship lurched, crippled before it could follow Euron's break north.
Robb had chosen Ramsay for more than strategy.
The wildfire at the Dreadfort had killed two Wolfguard and disfigured Sam. Ramsay had deserved death long ago. But he had been a ruling lord and, later, Theon's useful tool. Robb had lacked a clean reason to take him.
Now he had one.
Euron saw the ship falter and did not turn back.
"A pity for Lord Ramsay," he said.
Then he seized a captain by the collar and shoved Dragonbinder into his hands.
"Blow."
The man's face twisted. Everyone had seen what the horn had done to Cragorn.
"My king..."
Euron's dagger touched his throat. "Blow."
The second horn call rolled over Nagga's Cradle.
Far above, Drogon answered.
On a Hightower ship, Malora Hightower lifted her head so quickly that the moonstone charm at her throat flashed.
"The dragon is coming again."
Garth Hightower gave a nervous laugh. "You sound pleased. Should I remind you that normal people fear dragons?"
"Normal people do not get to dissect them."
"That is why they call you the Mad Maid."
Baelor Hightower ignored the exchange. "Can you influence it?"
Malora closed her hand around the moonstone.
For a heartbeat, her eyes went unfocused.
Then her body jerked. She collapsed to the deck, blood draining from her face.
Garth caught her before she struck the planks.
When she woke, she was breathing hard. "Blood. Fire. A silver-haired woman. The dragon's mind is full of her."
"Daenerys," Baelor said.
Malora nodded weakly. "Tell Robb the bond is stronger than we thought."
Drogon came down at the seam between the Hightower ships and the northern fleet.
Euron had chosen the breach well. The horn did not give him command enough to make the dragon fight like a trained hawk, but it could draw Drogon toward a marked path. Flame swept the water. Masts caught. Sailcloth vanished in fire.
The mixed fleet broke apart.
Euron's surviving ships forced their way through the gap. Nearly two thirds escaped toward the Sunset Sea. The rear ships left behind were abandoned without hesitation.
Baelor watched the burning path and clenched his jaw. "Robb's plan was sound. The dragon was the one piece no plan could fully bind."
"We still took dozens of ships," Garth said. "For a failed encirclement, that is still no small gain."
Malora, still pale, pushed herself upright. "Collect the dragon blood."
Garth stared at her. "From the sea?"
Later, at Robb's instruction, she would receive blood-soaked earth from Nagga's Hill instead.
The fighting ended before sunset.
Euron escaped. Drogon escaped. Yet Robb had gained knowledge of dragons that no raven report could have given him. Theon had cleared the most dangerous dissidents from the islands. The Iron Islands, for now, were his to manage.
Robb did not expect the ordinary ironborn to love Theon, or him. Raiders did not hand their hearts to outsiders. It was enough to feed loyal captains, kill the worst rebels, and keep the rest afraid.
Ramsay did not escape.
He had disguised himself as an ordinary sailor when his ship failed, but Theon's men found him before nightfall.
Theon severed the tendons in Ramsay's arms and legs one by one. Then he took the last thing the man could call manhood and dropped it into wine.
Maesters and healers were made to keep him alive.
Theon wanted him awake for as much of it as possible.
Robb took Ramsay afterward and sent him north to Moat Town, where Sam was waiting.
It would be, the king thought, a very happy reunion.
Far to the south, in Deep Den, the Volantene healers and the Silent Sisters moved among the wounded and the dead.
Talisa had followed the group for three months through the Westerlands. She had refused to become a gilded bird in Lannisport or any other safe city Robb might have chosen. Her hands still treated wounds. Her oath still mattered.
That day she knelt beside a man whose wound had festered, cutting away rotten flesh while the smell rose thick and sour.
Her stomach turned.
Talisa made it to a tree before she vomited.
Zamma, one of the Moon Singers, followed her.
"You have changed this past month," Zamma said quietly. "The others have guessed."
Talisa wiped her mouth and closed her eyes.
"Sing for me."
Zamma's expression softened. "I know songs for childbirth, but I am not skilled in that field. I do know a song that can end it without pain."
Talisa looked at her.
Zamma did not look away.
"No," Talisa said at last. "My oath is to save life, not end it."
"Then what will you do?"
"Return to Volantis." Talisa touched her belly, where nothing yet showed. "Give birth. Raise the child."
Robb Stark did not know that his bloodline had already begun to grow in her.
x
x
x
If you're enjoying the story so far, consider supporting me on Patreon ❤️
You'll get weekly early access to chapters, along with some exclusive content:
https://www.patreon.com/cw/TheDevotedReader